


That Sinister Kid

by FearTheSpork



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6168745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FearTheSpork/pseuds/FearTheSpork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe Decker has a stalker. Lucifer deals with him in a way only the Devil can.</p>
<p>Someone wanted Protective!Lucifer in my prompts. I suppose this is as protective as it gets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Sinister Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Very long, so sorry about that! 
> 
> Minor violence warning, some mentions of blood and sexual assault (none actually happens though. It's more alluded to and mentioned in passing). Also, I killed a poor little rabbit for the sake of a story. So sorry but it had to be done. It's not described in detail at all so it's easy enough to skip that part. 
> 
> If it helps no actual rabbits were harmed and mine are happily hopping about on my bed as I type.

It had all started simply enough.

A note pushed into her letterbox that she’d noticed on her way out of the door, toast between her teeth and her jacket half on. 

Chloe frowned, thinking that’d she’d picked up all of her mail already but shrugged, snatched it up and headed to her car for work. She was late as it was and figured it could wait until she got to her desk.

It was only when she’d arrived and settled into her paperwork that she remembered the letter in her purse. 

She checked the front. It must have been hand delivered because there was only her name on it.

Hand written, neat but scratchy and with no more to tell from the outside, she tore it open, still half distracted by the open file on her desk. She pulled out the single page inside and opened it, confused and a little weirded out when it contained nothing but a single, scrawled line.

_You are exquisite._

“Huh?” she said aloud, glancing around at her co-workers. Was this a joke or something? 

The first culprit that came to mind was Trixie but she quickly dismissed that thought because her daughter was only seven and exquisite was definitely not in her vocabulary. Believe her, she would know. Every time the seven year old learned a new word it was repeated over and over until it drilled into her brain.

Exquisite… It was such a stuffy, unnecessary word. The only person she knew who spoke like that and who knew where she lived was…

“Ugh, Lucifer,” she tutted, scrunching the paper into a ball.

“You rang Detective?" 

"My God!” she jumped, hand over her heart and several people glanced their way. His shit-eating grin widened as he stood before her desk, two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. 

“Wrong deit-”

“Deity, I know, I know,” she grumbled, reaching out and taking the proffered cup. “Thank you.”

She’d forgotten that he was due in this morning. During their texted conversation the night before- which was quickly becoming a guilty pleasure of hers- she’d told him about a case that could use an outside eye.

So here he was, ready and willing to provide it. As always. 

But first things first.

“Did you leave me this creepy letter this morning?” she waved it in front of his face as she moved around her desk and fell into step beside him. He plucked it from her grasp, unfolding it with a frown on his face that told her he hadn’t been the culprit.

“I’m offended that you think my handwriting is this appalling,” he narrowed his eyes at the side of her face. 

“So that’s a no then,” she sighed, taking the paper back from him.

“Detective, if I wanted to call you exquisite, then I’d do it.”

“Fair point.”

“You are by the way,” his voice lowered and she rolled her eyes, grasping his elbow to pull him towards the elevator faster. “Could it have been your ex? Trying to worm his way back into the marriage bed with slimy little notes that leave one feeling altogether queasy?" 

She gave him a look.

"Dan couldn’t even spell exquisite,” she snorted and he gave her a pleased smile as the elevator doors slid shut.

“Ooh, my kitten has claws.”

She tried not to react when he called her that. He’d fallen into a habit of using pet names lately and she supposed she should call him out on it. But they’d gotten so comfortable with each other lately. The coffee in the mornings, late night conversation’s that lasted for hours, calling him before anyone else when she needed help. It was only natural that the pet names had started too.

But she definitely would not admit to enjoying it whenever he called her kitten. 

At least not out loud.

“So, are you going to look into it?” he finally spoke again, arm brushing hers as they stood closer than they needed to in such a large elevator. She shrugged and he seemed off put by her nonchalance. He frowned. “But what if it’s something dangerous? A stalker?”

She spared him a ’ _really?_ ’ glance. “Lucifer, it’s one little letter. Someone probably playing a prank. Just forget about it and let’s go. Jimmy Dee isn’t going to interrogate himself.”

She left him standing in the elevator, frustrated. And not in the good way he’d been feeling around her lately. In a concerned way that made him antsy. Made his gut twist. He caught up to her quickly, long legs and super-strength giving him a little advantage as he spun in front of her.

“Look, just promise me you’ll be careful.”

The sincerity in his tone surprised her. She knew they’d been getting closer lately. He’d cut back on the asshole routine and she had lightened up and it made for an easy friendship scattered with palpable sexual tension- which she was trying her best to ignore for now. But she knew he still found it difficult to express emotions that were foreign to him.

The fact that he caught her off guard made her soften. She placed her hand on his forearm and squeezed.

“I promise, okay?" 

He nodded, seemingly placated for now.

With that, they went to make Jimmy Dee’s day a whole lot worse.

-

By the time a month had passed, she’d started getting four or five letter’s a week. 

All the same. Hand written, delivered when she either wasn’t home or was in bed- those times creeped her out the most- and all with varying messages that were becoming increasingly vile.

Every bump in the night, every creak of the house and she freaked out. She hadn’t told Lucifer about it but she knew he’d noticed how jumpy she was becoming and how tired she was from staring at her ceiling all night. He’d asked her about it one day but she’d simply told him that she needed a vacation and ended the conversation.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table and she allowed herself a smile. Trixie had just gone to bed and he was right on cue. 

_"Did you know that Doctor Martinez was having it off with Craig the gardener? I can’t believe it. Bloody outrage.”_

She bit her lip to keep her laughter in and poured a glass of wine as she replied.

_“Lucifer, you’re like two seasons behind the rest of the world. Yes I knew. It only gets better.”_

She tucked the phone into her pocket, grabbed her glass and sank down into the armchair she loved so much in preparation for her nightly chat. She’d known it would be hilarious, getting him into trashy soaps. 

He loved them and it only endeared him to her all the more and she should really stop thinking things like that.

_“But what about Lara? She’s pregnant with his triplets and he’s just going to leave her like that? Her fathers only just drowned and now her husband is sodding off with Craig?”_

She laughed out loud then, relaxing even more. Her text’s with Lucifer were the only time she ever seemed to get her admirer out of her mind.

Half an hour had passed and he was on a rant about how the creepy old janitor only needed a friend, when her doorbell rang. She stopped her reply text midway and looked up, dear in headlights expression firmly in place and her heart pounding a mile a minute.

It took her a few moments before she worked up the courage to go and see who it was but she made sure her gun was firmly in hand as she cracked the door open a bit. 

She’d hoped that it was maybe just Dan but that prayer was quickly crushed when she saw the shoebox waiting for her on the porch. Dread filled her stomach. 

“Mommy? Who is it?” Trixie’s voice broke her out of her frozen state and she shut the door again, bolting it behind her. Her daughter stood in her fluffy pyjama’s, rubbing her eyes.

“No-one baby,” Chloe soothed, picking up the sleepy child and carrying her back to bed. 

Thankfully, Trixie was fast asleep again before Chloe had even made it out of the room. Now she had two options. Leave the shoebox where it was and never, ever, ever look inside it. She liked this option the best because the alternative was opening it and she really didn’t want to do that.

Her phone buzzed, startling her.

_“Tell me I didn’t send you to sleep. I didn’t even get to the part about the bomb in the kitchen cabinet.”_

Or her option three. 

Texting Lucifer to ask him to come over sounded silly. She should be calling Dan, the actual Detective with a gun. She should call her boss and tell her everything, all about the messages and the threats and now the box on her porch. They would send a squad car by every half an hour. Do something to help.

But Lucifer was the one she wanted here. Her partner. Her best friend.

So she sent the text with shaking fingers.

_“Lucifer, come over quickly. Something’s happened.”_

His answer arrived ten seconds later. _“Sit tight. On my way.”_

And those words brought her more relief than any squad car possibly could.

-  
He was livid.

Not just at her tormentor but at her as well. He’d kept his voice low so as not to wake Trixie but he still laid into her for not telling him sooner. For not confiding in him. 

He would have helped, could have been a shoulder for her to lean on if she hadn’t been so bloody prideful.

She’d tried her best not to even sniffle under his reprimanding but the weeks of living on the edge, of wondering what would be waiting for her the next morning and looking over her shoulder finally got to her and to her embarrassment, she felt hot tears spill over her cheeks.

That had brought him out of his mood and he took a long breath before pulling her against his chest and into a hug. 

“There, there, Chloe,” he soothed and she didn’t even fight him. “I’m an arsehole. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“You are an ass,” she agreed and felt him shake with a laugh.

His arms encircled her fully and she let herself enjoy it- the whole feeling of being buried into his hard chest and his chin resting on top of her head.  
The box was now sitting on her coffee table, the elephant in the room that neither had opened yet but she couldn’t care when all she could smell was him. Whiskey and aftershave and she briefly wondered if he’d been drinking and driving before deciding that she didn’t care.

He’d arrived in record time and he was here now. That was all that mattered.  
She pulled away at last, wiping at her eyes and feeling silly. “Sorry, I just… It’s just been getting to me and it’s nice to have someone to share it with.”

He sighed, one hand cupping her cheek and looking very much as though he wanted to scold her again for not telling him sooner, but he said nothing instead. 

“Right, first things first,” he looked over at the box. “Let’s crack open this bad boy.”

“Do you have to sound so excited about it?” she sniffed, feeling better now that she had someone to share the burden with. Someone to watch her back. She felt like she could now start looking into this objectively. Maybe she could catch whomever was making her life Hell.

He shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the chair and frowned down at the item in question. 

“After this, I want to read every single one of those nasty little letters you’ve been left as well. I want to know everything that this cretin has said to you." 

Her cheeks flamed.

Some of those letters had been enough to make even her queasy, with both embarrassment and horror. The things that had been written about her were disgusting and she really didn’t want to share that with him.

But there was no talking him out of it. 

He rolled up his white shirt sleeves and took the pair of rubber gloves she offered him. God know’s what was in the box but she didn’t want him touching anything he shouldn’t. He moved in front of her, broad back blocking her view as he peeked inside.

"Oh dear,” his voice was even but she could sense that he was angry. “Someone _has_ been a busy bee.”

Her stomach dropped. “Oh no, what is it?” She sincerely hoped it wasn’t something dead. That had been her initial fear. “Is it an animal?” she asked, biting her thumb nail.

“No, nothing so sinister I’m afraid,” he gave her a tight smile over his shoulder, before stepping aside to reveal a box stuffed to bursting with polaroids. Almost every single one that she could see was of herself and Lucifer. She picked it up by the sides and emptied the box over the table, picking up pictures.

One of them exiting a building.

Another of them in a coffee shop.

Another in their car, parked next to the sidewalk.

A forth of them strolling along a sunny street in civilian clothes and sunglasses. Lucifer was laughing at something she’d said and she was looking up at him, smiling.

She remembered that day well. He’d insisted she come out with him to lunch so she wouldn’t be bored out of her mind in the house all day. They’d had lunch at a cosy little diner -which he’d paid for, all the while insisting it wasn’t a date. Then they’d just walked around the city, picking up ice cream and doing what all good partners and friends did.

It had been the perfect way to spend her day off.

But the disturbing thing was, this had been three months ago, long before she’d started getting letters.

“How long as this guy been following me?” she wondered softly to herself, staring at the photo in her hand.

“Too bloody long,” Lucifer took the photo from her and cocked his head at it. “We make such an attractive couple,” he waggled his eyebrows at her and despite the severity of the situation, she laughed.

“You are such an dick sometimes.”

“Hmm,” he smirked, before going back to the box that she’d set aside. He lifted it and looked inside, to see if any more photo’s had stuck to the bottom. He was surprised when he found a message scrawled over the cardboard. “Oh, charming.”

He held the box up for her to see.

_**SLUT** _

“Nice,” she said dryly, shaking her head. Lucifer’s gaze narrowed.

“But you and I have never engaged in any sort of naughty bedroom activities. Not for lack of trying on my part,” he gave her a look before continuing. “Why would he call you a slut when you’re nothing of the sort?”

“You should see those letters,” she snorted, missing the murderous expression that swept over his face. Maybe it was Lucifer’s presence in the room that was making her feel more relaxed about the whole thing but she almost felt like she could laugh about it. Did Lucifer, dare she even think it, make her feel safe?

He interrupted her thoughts, holding out his hand. “Let me see them then.”

-

As he read, his face became darker and darker until she was sure he was going to burn a hole in the paper he was currently reading. Sometimes he clenched his eyes shut and seemed to take deep, stabilizing breaths before continuing. She debated taking the remaining letters away from him because they only got worse but she didn’t dare move.

Lucifer was sure he was white knuckled by now.

_“I’m going to fuck you bloody you little cunt.”_

The mere thought of anyone touching her like that, hurting his Chloe, made him wish he was back in Hell so he could rain fiery pain down on the little maggot. 

This bastard thought he could write these vile things and justice would never find him? 

Oh how very wrong he was. Lucifer was already formulating a nice little plan. The writing was on the wall for this little wanker. With every single word Lucifer had read, the stalker had signed his own death warrant.

_“I hope you’re a screamer.”_

_“No-one will ever find your body when I’m done. Not even that freak Lucifer. The one you’re letting between your legs every night.”_

_“I’ll kill him too. Just for touching you. You’re mine, you little bitch.”_

Just for a moment, he lost control of himself and his eyes flashed red. Thankfully Chloe didn’t even notice, too busy sorting through the polaroids on the table. So, he wanted to play with the big boys did he? 

Well, Lucifer thought, he was the biggest baddest boy the playground had ever seen.

And he did so like games.

“Look at this one,” she held out a photo, in the hopes of distracting him from the letters for a moment. It worked and he plucked it from her hand.  

“Definitely the jealous type,” Lucifer wrinkled his nose, staring down at the image that should have been of himself and Chloe but instead had him scratched out viciously. 

“The letters didn’t give that away?”

“Hmph,” he agreed. 

The ringing of the house phone made her jump and he pretended not to notice to spare her blushes. She reached for it, unhooking it and holding it to her ear. 

“Decker residence.”

_“He’s there, isn’t he?”_

Her eyes went wide and her panicked gaze found her companions. “Who the hell is this?” she demanded, praying her voice sounded stern and not shaky. Lucifer motioned for her to put the call on speaker phone and she did, setting it down on the table so he could listen in.

_“He is. I knew it. I fucking knew it. Can’t keep away from him. Always have to betray me with him!”_ the voice was breathing heavily, muffled and distorted. _“Such a slut.”_

They let him ramble on for a few more minutes, trying and failing to hear something that might tell them more. Mostly Chloe just blocked out the obscene things he was saying, all the awful images he was describing in the hopes of getting a response from them.

But Lucifer was letting them sink in. He was going to remember every little detail of this conversation and when he found him, he was going to repeat it.

While he skinned the disgusting maggot alive.

-

It didn’t take much convincing from Lucifer for Chloe to let him stay after that.  
He slept on the couch that night and Chloe slept better than she had in weeks just knowing he was there. 

The next morning was a rush, especially when Trixie Decker screamed the house down with excitement when she spotted her favourite person dozing on the couch. After they’d calmed her down enough to inhale a quick breakfast, Lucifer dropped the child off at school and drove Chloe to work.

She didn’t even protest at how protective he was being.

“We’ll get started on finding this guy after my meeting okay?” she promised him, knowing that he was eager to get on it right away. 

He’d hadn’t really slept the night before, listening out for any movement that might indicate a letter was being pushed under the door but there had been nothing there when they’d left the house. The stalker was clearly being a little more careful now that he knew Lucifer was there as well.

“Yes, if you insist. But after this boring little meeting, I’ll pick you up right here. Twelve on the dot,” he made sure she heard him.

“Yes mother,” she threw over her shoulder on the way inside, clearly feeling much more like herself after a good nights sleep. He watched until she was safely indoors before driving away.

Lucifer was itching to bring down some form of punishment but he knew he would get nowhere on his own.

He’d made a phone call to Maze that morning when Chloe had been in the shower. The Detective had bluntly refused his offer to watch her back there too so he was left to make breakfast and mull over all of his options. There were plenty to choose from of course, but he wanted this done well. 

Discreetly.

Parking outside Lux, he strolled inside and greeted Maze at the bar. 

“Good morning Maze. Is she here?" 

Maze gestured across the empty room to the sole occupant at a far table, sipping casually on a beer and watching Lucifer.

"Got here ten minutes ago. What’s this about? If you need someone taken out, why not ask me?” Maze crossed her arms, clearly feeling a little huffy with the fact that he’d picked a human over her. Again. 

He patted her shoulder fondly.

“Maze darling, it’s not that I doubt your skills. I’m well aware of how easy this would be for you. Or for me in fact. But…” he glanced over at the waiting figure. “You and I have a nasty habit of trailing blood and entrails over everything that doesn’t move. I need this to be nice and clean. I don’t want this walking stain to cause Miss Decker any more problems.”

Maze didn’t seem very appeased, especially when he mentioned Chloe, but she let it go all the same. Her master’s wrath was not something she desired to be directed at her.

Lucifer left her with a nod and strolled over to the table, smiling down at his only patron. 

“Well well well. Punctual as always I see.”

“Lucifer,” she greeted with a nod, eyes studying him in that peculiar way she did. 

“Irish my friend, how are you?” At the table sat an entirely unassuming young woman. Glasses, cropped hair and more tattoos than a prison inmate, she looked every bit the delinquent runaway that most people assumed her to be. But Lucifer had learned not to judge solely based of appearances.

“Less happy than I was half an hour ago,” she admitted with a toothy grin.

“Did I pull you away from some lovely young thing?”

“Two, actually,” she gave him a look and he chuckled, holding his hands up apologetically. “Now, I know you didn’t call me to catch up on my love life, as interesting as it is. What can I do for you?" 

"Straight to the point then,” Lucifer sat up and crossed one leg over the other, hands clasped in front of him. “My friend has a problem. A persistent, disgusting problem that needs to be… taken care of.”

Irish frowned at the seething tone of his voice, cocking her head at him. 

“When you say friend… special friend?” she waggled her eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood. It worked, marginally.

“Hmm, if only she was that way inclined towards me,” he hummed, losing himself for a moment. “But anyway. My lovely Miss Decker has seemed to acquire a stalker over these past few months,” he pulled a letter and a photograph out of his inside pocket and set it in his companions waiting hand. She read it over while he continued. 

“Now, Chloe has wormed her way into my head and I make no secret of it. So when some ignorant little shit is making her afraid to sleep at night, I very much want him dealt with.”

She finished the letter and looked up. 

“You want me to stalk a stalker?” she asked dryly and he nodded. 

“I realize it’s not in your job description exactly but I assumed it might be a pleasant change of direction for you.”

Irish reclined back, looking at the photo again. “He has a filthy mouth on him, I’ll give you that. Okay,” she set the items aside and nodded. “Seeing as you were the one who introduced me to my current employer, I could see my way to doing a little freelance work for an old friend.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“I’m sure. I used to track down annoyances like this before I got into the big game. Thought I’d make a P.I. out of myself but there was far too much red tape. I can get this guy for you,” she nodded, taking another long swallow of beer.

“How?”

She pursed her lips, rocking her head from side to side and looking pensive.

“I’ll have to stake out Miss Decker’s home myself. Set up some surveillance to see who’s been leaving those lovely little notes for her. If I set my camera’s up well enough he won’t be able to so much as glance at the house without me seeing him,” she nodded with a finality. “I’ll need a day to get my things together and set up. What’s the address?”

He took the phone she offered him and typed it in quickly.

“You’ll follow him when you find him of course.”

“Of course,” she answered slowly, eyes narrowed. “Look Lucifer, what are you after here? This guy is messing with your girl, I get it. Do you want me to kill him for you? I know I’m more of a one woman clean up crew these days but I’m still known to dabble.”

Lucifer grinned and Irish shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

They may have been friends for a long time, but that smile was one of evil thoughts and dark desires and it thoroughly creeped her out. 

“Oh no no no,” he drew out the words, still grinning. 

“You see, contrary to what I told my fetching bartender earlier, I very much want to give out my own brand of justice. I’m well aware of how efficient you are when it comes to quick, clean kills,” he acknowledged and she nodded. “But for a change, I think I’d like to try my hand at it. I just need you there to do the dirty work afterwards. Leave everything squeaky clean and shiny. Maybe erase him from a few data banks here, burn a few documents there… You get the picture.”

She did. Very clearly.

“Oh goody,” she drawled. “I’m on viscera clean up detail.” She pushed herself up from the table and shook Lucifer’s out stretched hand. “You have yourself a deal, Mr. Morningstar. As usual,” she added. “I have your number. It might be a few days but I’ll get it done.”

With that she was gone, out the back door and into the crowd on the streets.

“See that you do,” Lucifer muttered as the door swung shut.

-

He picked up Chloe at twelve, reaching over and opening the passenger door for her. “Hey,” she smiled at him in that way that she did, bright and happy to see him and it took his breath right out of his lungs.

“Afternoon love,” he replied, voice as even as he could get it.

She thankfully didn’t notice his nervousness, too busy concentrating on the file in her hands. “I told the Chief everything,” she admitted. “I also called Dan and told him what was going on, in case I need him to get Trix on short notice.”

“Feel better?”

“Sort of. I feel less isolated, yeah. I’m glad I told you,” she reached over and squeezed his arm in thanks, before pulling away. “Okay, so I figured we would go and revisit some of the places in the photo’s. Especially the Java Joe’s. He’s taken at least six pictures of us there in the last two months alone,” her voice trailed off as she flipped through the pages.

“Java Joe’s it is then,” he nodded, pulling away from the curb with his arm still burning from her touch.

It had turned out to be an altogether fruitless search and three hours later they made their way back to the car no more knowledgeable than they had been getting out of it. 

Lucifer glanced over, seeing the disappointed expression that she was fighting to keep off her face. He shot her a sympathetic look, hoping that Irish wouldn’t take forever to find this bastard.

Chloe on the other hand, had no idea of Lucifer’s back up plan. She was just too busy praying that there wouldn’t be anything else waiting for her when she got home. She was so busy lost in thought that the arm slung over her shoulder’s came as a complete surprise.

Lucifer tugged her closer to his side as they walked and she let him do it, relaxing against him after her initial rigidness. 

Oh yes, she was in deep trouble.

When had Lucifer stopped being a pain in her ass? When had he started being the one person she could really rely on? How long had these butterflies in her stomach been happening around him?

Deep, deep trouble.

-

When they arrived back at the house, Chloe was surprised to see a sullen looking Dan waiting for her on the front steps. 

“Hey,” she greeted, ignoring Lucifer’s soft groan at the sight of her ex.

“I’ve been trying to call but your cell was off,” he met them halfway down the path. Chloe’s stomach dropped and he eyes went wide with panic. Dan noticed and immediately headed her train of thought off. “Trixie’s fine. She’s inside,” he held his hands up and Chloe let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Then what’s wrong? Lucifer and I have been out looking for this guy all day. I must have left my phone in the car,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair and trying to calm herself down. 

Dan glanced at her companion, seemingly noticing him for the first time. 

“Assface,” he greeted, disdain clear on his face.

“Detective Douche, always a pleasure. Still out there making the world a more boring place?” Lucifer responded with a sneer.

“Still here trying to sleep with my wife?”

“Ex-wife.”

It was no secret they hated each others guts but Chloe was in no mood for a slanging match today. “Guys! Cut it out. You aren’t five years old. Dan, what’s wrong?” she pressed, in her ‘this is urgent’ voice. There were so many more important things happening than a pissing match between her ex-husband and her current- Whatever Lucifer was to her. 

They bitched at each other enough when there wasn’t a crisis, she didn’t need it now as well. 

Dan composed himself and Lucifer took a step back, smirking. “I got back here to wait for you with Trix and there was a box waiting on your doorstep. I didn’t want to open it, so I lifted it with gloves and left it inside,” he rubbed the back of his neck. 

Chloe groaned softly, head falling into her hands. “Probably more polaroids,” she mumbled, quite content to never go into her house again. She would just stand here and catch him in the act.

Lucifer’s hand on the small of her back made her look up. He was giving her an encouraging look that said, _come on, let’s go catch the bad guys_. 

They stared at each other for a moment before an uncomfortable Dan cleared his throat and broke them from their thoughts. She inhaled slowly. “Okay, let’s go see what this whack job’s left for me this time.”

They’d all made it to the porch steps when Trixie Decker’s screams echoed in their ears. 

The high pitched cries were nothing like the excited ones from this morning and it sent shards of fear spiralling through both of her parents. 

“Trixie!” Chloe crashed through the front door, followed closely by Dan and Lucifer. They found the seven year old, screaming her head off in the living room, the neat looking box open on the coffee table. Her eyes were still on it’s contents and both Chloe and Dan lunged forwards to get her away from it.

But it was Lucifer who got there first, stepping in front of it with long strides and scooping the terrified child up into his arms.

Her face buried into his neck, huge gulping shaking sobs rattling her little body as he walked her quickly away. One glance down at the box and he was even more set on catching this bastard. Dan was staring down at the dead rabbit in open mouthed disbelief, the blood in the box seeping onto the table now.

Chloe raced towards her daughter, who was still clinging to Lucifer with unbelievable strength. 

She was trying to say something but her words were so garbled between sobs that no-one could make it out. “It’s okay Beatrice,” Lucifer soothed in a voice that Chloe had never heard him use before. It was soft, caring, almost angelic. 

Trixie’s sobs began to taper off, finally letting her draw breath. Her face was red, eyes glistening when she loosened her grip on him eventually. Chloe rubbed her child’s back, wishing more than ever that she’d caught this bastard and thrown him in a cell already.

Dan, his fingers shaking more than he’d like after the scare, held up the box lid for Chloe to see.

Her blood ran cold.

_**SILLY RABBIT, TRIX ARE FOR KIDS** _

The tag on the side was addressed to her daughter, not her.

-

While Lucifer impatiently waited on a phone call over the next few days, he also stuck to Chloe and Trixie like glue. She pretended to be annoyed with him half the time but in actual fact, having him sleep on the couch every evening was helping her get through the night.

Trixie, bless her soul, had been too shaken up for school the day after her ordeal and Chloe was happy to keep her off. While she didn’t doubt the school’s security she’d rather have her daughter at home for a day or two.

Lucifer had been a saint the entire time.

He even cooked for them, which she was grateful for because lately she’d been so tightly wound that she could burn water if she wasn’t careful.

She still had a knot of tension between her shoulder blades but that was a small price to pay. Hell, now that she’d told her work, a squad car was making rounds every half an hour to make sure nothing was amiss.

And nothing was. Ever since the rabbit, there had been no letters, no phone calls and no more pictures.

All was quiet on the home front and she’d let herself relax and enjoy spending time with her daughter. She’d sent Lucifer home once to give him a break, but he’d protested that much that she’d had to go with him. He’d stayed in his apartment for five minutes and that was simply to collect clean clothes he would need.

Then just when she was beginning to think she was safe…

The crash of glass breaking in the living room sent her stumbling out of her shower and almost into Lucifer who met her at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Don’t come down in your bare feet,” he ordered sharply and she paused on the bottom step, looking over the mess in the front room. Glass from the broken window was scattered everywhere and a red brick with paper wrapped around it lay on the rug.

“Fuck!” she threw her head back against the wall, wishing she could run out of the house and chase him down but she had little desire to do so in a towel. 

She was surprised that Lucifer hadn’t bolted from the house though. The man could run like Hell was on his heels and no, she didn’t regret that pun in the least. She supposed he was reluctant to leave her alone in the house when she was clad in only a towel and a little shaken up. 

“Go get dressed,” he put a hand on her bare shoulder and pushed her gently back up the stairs. “I’ll clean up. I’ll call Detective Douche and tell him to keep the child overnight.” With those words, he made his way back downstairs. 

He must have been angry, she guessed because he hadn’t even leered at her being in a towel like he usually did. She heard him open the closet where the brush and pan were kept and sighed, heading to her bedroom to dress.

Downstairs, Lucifer was pacing. 

Surely Irish should have called by now? She had to have seen the culprit. There was no way in Hell she could have missed him. 

A few more minutes passed of him absently sweeping up glass.

Then Lucifer’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he could barely keep the sadistic grin off of his face. He answered with no greeting. “Are you following him?” he asked lowly, so as not to be heard by prying ears.

“Aye,” she replied softly and he could hear an engine running in the background. “Followed him to Carter Street. Number twenty-seven. Nice place,” she mused and the engine sound cut off abruptly.

“Nicely done,” he grinned, his blood pumping faster at the mere thought of the maggot so close to his grasp.

“Yeah yeah,” she muttered. “Thank me after I’ve cleaned up whatever you leave of him. Are you coming over now?" 

Lucifer spared a glance towards the stairs and thought of leaving Chloe when she’d clearly been so shaken up. That would never do. He’d need to wait until she was sound asleep before sneaking out or she would wonder where he’d gone. 

She didn’t need to know anything about what was going to happen tonight. She’d remain innocent to the crime he was about to gleefully commit. All she would know was that the letters, the abuse, the nightmare would stop out of nowhere and she would never know why.

"No, I think I’ll wait until Chloe is asleep. Do me a favour and make sure our friend has a very uncomfortable wait for me. I’m not sure how long I’ll be. And when I say uncomfortable…” Lucifer smirked and Irish raised her eyes to the window above her.

“As in, on a scale of one to five, make it eleven?”

“Precisely.”

“I’m on it.”

The line went dead and Lucifer cheerfully went back to brushing the floor clear of debris. Tonight was the night then, he mused. He’d been musing over whether to kill him or not. He knew that Chloe would severely disapprove if she knew. He’d fought with himself about why he should care about her opinion before acknowledging that he did. Deeply.

But the threat towards Trixie was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Tonight was the night that someone was going to die.

-

At a quiet, unremarkable house on Carter Street, Brian Turner flopped back onto his bed, breathless and grinning from ear to ear. 

That would show the bitch, he thought proudly, his hand pushing his long hair out of his eyes. That would teach her for letting another man stay in her home. A man that wasn’t him. He stretched out, kicking off his shoes until they landed with a thump on the rug.

It honestly baffled him that she would play house with that freak. What did he have that Brian didn’t anyway? Sure, he had the money, the good looks, the charm…

Okay, so he had a lot going for him. Scowling, Brian sat up and closed the curtains next to his bed.

All he needed was a few more days and everything would be ready for her. He would set the basement of his parents old house up beautifully. It was the only thing they’d ever given him that was of any use. 

Soundproofing, nylon rope, a bed… it was all down there in the dark just waiting to be arranged.

His thoughts drifted to her again. His angel. The embodiment of perfection. It was such a shame she was spoiling herself with that British fuck.

But he wouldn’t worry about that now. She’s see eventually how good they could be. Whether he had to spend an hour breaking her in or a hundred, he would make her see how great he was. It wouldn’t be Morningstar she’d be thinking of by the end of it.

He shifted, falling back into his favourite fantasy of his beautiful woman. His hand reached over to the night-stand and pressed play on the battered CD player that sat there. 

The Black Key’s filled the room and his eyes fluttered shut, grin in place.

_“Baby I’m howlin’ for you…”_

Oh yeah, he’d make her howl alright, he laughed to himself lowly.  
He was back in the coffee shop on the day he’d first laid eyes on her. She’d walked in, framed in the sunlight, all golden hair and sexy wiggle and he’d been a goner from the first second.

He hadn’t talked to her the first time. He’d just watched her pick up two coffee’s. The barista had called out her name though. Chloe Decker. He’d known he had to see her again. So he’d begun to frequent the store and when he saw her the third time with her partner, he’d plucked up the courage and asked for her number. 

Then just like that, that fucking asshole had interrupted them, leaning across her and picking up the two cups.

“Sorry sonny. She doesn’t date coffee stained preschoolers,” he’d drawled and Chloe had looked embarrassed for him, mouthing ’ _sorry_ ’ to him on the way out. He’d been devastated.

So he’d tracked her down. Found out she was a cop, where she lived, all about her daughter. Then he’d discovered that she was actually hanging out with the same guy who had spoiled his chances.

So he’d found out about him as well. Of course. A guy who had it all. Rich nightclub owner turned police liaison. Money, looks, ladies. One lady in particular. He’d watched as they became ever closer.

There was no doubt in his mind that she was sleeping with that idiot.

But Brian’s fantasy land, it all went so differently. 

He would slam his fist into Lucifer Morningstar’s smug, self-assured face, over and over until he was satisfied that the prick wouldn’t move any more. He would be victorious for once. Chloe would swoon over how brilliant he was of course. Then he’d take his girl away and they’d fuck for hours, forgetting all about Lucifer.

But reality was not that kind to Brian. He’d watched him go in and out of her house, always touching her, leaning over to whisper in her ear. She would respond to him. Giggle at his jokes, smile at him, touch his arm. It made Brian’s blood boil.

It wasn’t his fault that he’d left all those horrible notes for her. Not really.

Sure he’d written the words but she’d inspired them, damn it! If she hadn’t let Lucifer into her fucking bed then none of this would have happened.

His breathing had picked up but he calmed himself. He was diverging from his fantasy.

_“The little girl’s got a hold on me, like glue. Baby I’m howlin’ for you…”_

He fingered the hem of his shirt and his erection pressed into the front of his sweats. He smiled to himself as he thought about her and all the things she would beg him to do when the time came. 

It would be so good. He would make it good for her. Be the best she’d ever had. His hand slipped under the waistband, gripping himself. He would be so much better than Lucif-

A hand clamped around his throat suddenly and his eyes shot open in panic. He was looking up at the face of a woman, her brow furrowed in disgust and her nose wrinkled. He struggled, attempting to fight her off but his hand was caught in his pants and the other was now under her knee.

A pinprick in said arm made him wince and panic all the more.

The force around his throat was cutting his breath off.

The unfamiliar face hovered over him, expression now passive and holding him still with ease. His vision swam as whatever had been injected into his veins began to work and the pressure on his throat eased up suddenly until he was coughing and spluttering, lunging from the bed in an attempt to fight his attacker.

He jumped to his feet and was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness. The room span on it’s axis and he took a dive to the left, crashing into his wardrobe painfully in an attempt to find something to hold onto.

He pulled in ragged breaths, wondering what the fuck was going on.

He could just make out the figure in the corner, sitting cross legged in an armchair. Her head was cocked to one side as she watched him. She almost looked bored, checking her watch and Brian thought he was dying as his vision blurred. How could she be looking at her watch while he was over here dying? 

He was still gasping for breath, stumbling towards his phone only to realize it had been broken in half.

The now blurry figure rolled her eyes at his bumbling attempts to keep his footing. 

“Jesus Christ, would you go down already? I want to get you gagged before you have a chance to start screaming. If Lucifer is going to be a while, then I at least want to be able to watch TV in peace.”

Lucifer? No, he’d been so careful. How could Lucifer Morningstar know where to find him?

Brian slurred out words but none of them really made any semblance of sense. He finally tipped forward and passed out face down at Irish’s feet. She looked at him with clear distaste before casually stepping over him and sauntering out of the room, bobbing her head in time to the music.

She found nothing upstairs that would be helpful and so rode the banister down to the bottom and went looking again.

“Uncomfortable. He wanted uncomfortable…” she spoke softly to herself.  
Taking a right turn into the kitchen, she spotted the fridge immediately and grinned. It would have to do for now. It would probably muffle the screaming as well. 

The Black Key’s accompanied her while she went to work, dragging a now naked Brian down the stairs with a thump, thump, thump.

_“Baby I’m howlin’ for you.”_

-

When Chloe came back down the stairs, she found the living room clean and the broken window covered in cardboard. 

“I called a repair company,” Lucifer appeared next to her suddenly, smiling in that soothing way he did as of late. “They’ll be here in the morning to fix the window. Detective Douche is keeping Beatrice overnight and I’ve made dinner.”

“Oh,” was all she could say through the barrage of information.

She was still reeling. After thinking she was safe… How could she have been stupid enough to let her guard down for even a second? To think it was over when it wasn’t? She was both furious with herself and upset.

As always, Lucifer could tell what what was going on inside her head.  
“Stop beating yourself up. It’s not your fault he’s a giant knob,” he slung his arm casually over her shoulders and she let him guide her along until she was seated at the island in the kitchen.

Hot lasanga was placed in front of her and a fork was shoved into her hand.

She sighed, looking up at Lucifer’s muscular back. He was washing his own plate, having eaten while she was taking an age to get dressed. She hadn’t wanted to come back downstairs if she was honest and it was only the knowledge that he was still here that made her return.

She hated not feeling safe in her own home but at least Lucifer helped combat the feeling of unease a little. He’d really put his life on hold for the last week just to help her. He’d let Maze run Lux so he could focus all of his attention on one case and she was eternally grateful to have him around.

“Thanks,” she finally spoke suddenly and he glanced around. “For calling them. And for dinner…” she was silent again for a while. “And for everything else,” she added softly. 

His eyes gleamed with humour and he seemed oddly chipper, giving her a stunning smile that had her heart stuttering in her chest.

“Don’t say it with so much enthusiasm Detective,” he smiled, teasing her. “One might think you like me being up your arse twenty-four seven.”

“Poor choice of words,” she shook her head.

“Perfect choice of words. Naughty mind more like,” he gave her a mock disapproving look and the tension went out of her shoulders as she began to focus on the banter instead of the events of the night. He could distract her like no other person on earth. 

Usually, it was a curse.

Tonight though, she was very grateful. “You know, if you wagged your finger at me you’d look like my mom.”

His mouth opened. “You little fox,” he scolded. “Don’t make me spank you.”

She would have retorted but all the blood in her body had suddenly raced towards her face and she was feeling dizzy. “Are you quite alright Detective? You look a little red.”

When she finally did find her voice again, she managed a very unoriginal, “Shut up, Lucifer,” and went back to her dinner, still tinged pink.

“Looks like I win again.”

She grumbled something into her food but smiled all the same.  

Three hours later and Chloe had dozed off on the couch, sleeping deeply with her breathing even and unhurried. Lucifer was shrugging on his jacket, smoothing out the fabric and watching her. 

Before he slipped out of the door he pulled the throw from the back of the couch and draped around her to keep her warm.

“Be back soon love,” he promised lowly, pressing a kiss to her temple and slipping quietly out of the house.

-

Lucifer had driven to Carter Street, parking across the street and bounding cheerfully up the steps of number twenty-seven, rapping lightly on the door. A pissed off looking Irish opened it, glaring daggers at him. He would have been terrified, had he not been well, the actual devil.

“Three and a half hours,” she fumed.

Muffled screaming was coming from inside and he stepped around her, motioning for her to close the door. 

“Yes, sorry about that. Took a while for Miss Decker to relax enough to sleep. Now you’re sure this is the cretin? I’m not about to leave Chloe unguarded and flay some poor innocent tosser am I?”

Irish narrowed her eyes at him, before yanking him into the living room by his arm and grabbing a folder from the computer desk. She pushed it into his hands roughly, clearly still pissed off at him. 

“I went through his stuff to make sure he lived alone. Found this." 

He went to open it but she stopped him. "You might not like what you see in there.” He looked at her, a hard stare that had her putting her hands up in the air. “But hey, you’re the Devil. Who am I to say no?”

Lucifer opened it and tipped the contents out. 

More polaroids and a copy of- “Hot Tub High School,” he picked it up, turning it over in his hands until Chloe stared up at him from the cover. His fingers lightly traced her, forgetting for a moment why he was even here.

But Irish drew him out of his thoughts. 

“Mustn’t have been enough for his spank bank,” she mused dryly and Lucifer sneered in disgust. 

“Why’s that?”

She plucked a picture up from where it had fallen face down and showed him the image. His whole body tensed, violent anger rising in a tide from his gut and blinding him for a moment. Images of Chloe, naked and in the shower’s at the Department. 

“Found these as well,” Irish interrupted cautiously, passing him a larger plastic ring bound folder, one that school kids would use to keep notes in.

He tossed the photo and DVD aside, flipping open the front and staring down at the words this foul creature had written.

_~~#1: Buy rope and Acoustitile 55 Pro~~ _

“What, pray tell, is Acoustitile 55 Pro?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even but Irish could tell he was hanging on by a thread.

“It’s um, for soundproofing walls,” she answered, taking a step back when his head snapped up. “I found it all in the basement. Along with a fuck load of rope and a bed. Looks like he was getting bigger aspirations. Needed more than just photo’s and a DVD.”

Lucifer barely heard her, busy thinking about how long a person could survive if you wrapped their own intestines around their neck because if there was a bed down there, he could damn well imagine what he’d been going to do to Chloe.

To his girl.

_~~#2 Find a place to keep the brat while she’s here.~~ _

A muscle twitched in his neck at the thought of anyone harming Trixie Decker. Yes, she was a constant pain in the arse but she was his pain in the arse damn it. She was the light of Chloe’s life and for anyone to harm her would hurt her mother more than any bullet. 

His chest tightened at the memory of the rabbit and the child’s screams.

_#3 Get my woman here. Maybe use the kid as bait?_

Four was scribbled out viciously and he couldn’t make out the words.

_#5 Make her see how good we are together._

He’d drawn a little heart next to the word together and suddenly Lucifer had seen enough. He crushed the paper in his hands and threw it aside. “Where is he?”

Irish pointed towards the kitchen, where the screaming was coming from. 

“I put him in the fridge. Tied it shut with that rope I found and kept it running,” she looked quite proud of herself. “You said you wanted him uncomfortable so I ran with it…” As he nodded and started off towards the kitchen, she followed him. “Listen, I also went down and propped some of that soundproofing stuff up around the walls. Left the CD player down there and I couldn’t hear shit when I came back up. Might be worth using it.”

“Thank you Irish, you effective little stalker, you. You might want to watch some television while I work. Make yourself a sandwich,” he gestured to the shelves of the fridge that had been placed neatly on the counter-tops.

She nodded without argument as Lucifer gripped the fridge door and yanked it open, ropes snapping like he was pulling elastic bands apart. 

Brian tumbled out and hit the floor, naked and shivering, gasping for breath.  
“Hello. Oh, I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you. I can’t believe it’s actually happening,” Lucifer sighed, leaning over him with that demonic grin widening over his pearly whites. Irish backed out of the room slowly and left Brian to his fate. 

“I-I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean any of it. I promise!” Brian garbled out as she left but Lucifer just tutted and rolled his eyes, reaching down and grabbing the man by the throat.

Irish heard the basement door slam open and several dull thuds of what she assumed was Brian being thrown down the wooden stairs. She’d clearly assumed right when she heard Lucifer chuckling darkly and descending after him with a measured pace.

Poking her head around the door warily, she noted that Lucifer had left the basement door open and in the interest of sound, she slipped in to shut it again. However, before she could close it fully, she caught a glimpse of what was happening downstairs.

Lucifer was talking, light and almost friendly as he advanced on Brian. He twirled the end of a length of rope in his hands, flicking on the CD player again as he passed it.

_“Well the crooks are out, and the streets are gray…”_

Lucifer descended on Brian with glee and Irish shut the door tight, grimacing. She was much more the quick and silent type. Never had much need to spray blood up the walls.

She had a sickening feeling that she was about to be cleaning more than blood later tonight.

_“That’s me, that’s me, the boy with the broken halo. That’s me, that’s me, the Devil won’t let me be…”_

-

Irish was awoken from her restless sleep by someone clearing their throat. She groaned, cracking open one eye and seeing the blurry outline of Lucifer standing there in the lamplight. She quickly remembered where she was and what she was doing. She was on a job.

“Are you done?” she asked groggily, glancing at the clock. Three in the morning. Fuck, she’d be cleaning all night now.

“Quite satisfied, yes.”

She looked at him properly for the first time and fought to keep her mouth closed and her expression neutral. Lucifer was drenched in blood from head to toe, his once white shirt a scarlet soaked mess that was dripping all over the floor.

It was sprayed along his neck, falling from his wet hair. His hands and forearms were caked in it, both drying and fresh. He’d never looked more like the Devil to her in her whole life. She felt a shudder of fear creep up her spine.  
He still had that look on his face that made it seem like he was simply covered in paint after a long cheerful afternoon of fun.

“Your money will be in the usual drop off location tomorrow,” he informed her cheerily as she struggled for words. 

Eventually she settled for nodding mutely and he seemed appeased. “Right. I’d better go home and burn these clothes. Shame,” he looked down sadly. “I liked this suit. Then I’ll slip back into Miss Decker’s home like I was never gone.”

He walked past her, towards the door and the darkened empty street.

She found her voice before he left. “If you ever need anything else, Luce…”

He glanced around and nodded. “Yes, of course. You do provide a wonderful service Irish,” he said, hand over heart. “But remember, we’ve never been here.”

“Never been where?” she answered automatically and he grinned at her before the door closed softly behind him. Her breath left her all at once in relief and she steeled herself, following the bloody footprints ( _thank fuck for lino floors- she’d hate to have to start on carpet_ ) through the kitchen and down into the basement.

The sight that greeted her would have sent even the most hardened people running for the nearest bucket.

“Sweet Jesus Christ,” she heaved, planting her hand against the wall and doubling over. She desperately fought to keep her sandwich from earlier down. It wasn’t a particularly good idea to add her own DNA to this mess, no matter how well she was going to clean it.

When she’d taken a few deep breaths, she looked back around at the… body. Or what was left of it anyway. Taking a step forward, she crossed herself. 

She was called in for clean up when things went south and damn it, she was good at her chosen profession. She both killed and cleaned for money in the seedy underbelly of a corrupt city. 

But she was used to cleaning gunshot wounds. The occasional stabbing.  
Not the sea of blood and gore that greeted her in the basement. 

After at least ten minutes of staring, she’d focused herself. This was just like any other job. Blood and guts, nothing special.

As she distanced herself, she felt better. 

Stepping gingerly across the few parts of the floor that weren’t smeared in blood, she leaned over what remained of Brian Turner. “Buddy,” she grimaced. “I think you just fucked with the Devil’s girl. Tough break,” she muttered, straightening again and wondering where the fuck to even begin.

She looked up and the rest of her disgust and horror finally left her, replaced by annoyance.

“How the fuck am I supposed to reach the ceiling?” she asked no-one in particular, arms splayed out in question.

Nobody answered and she looked down at Brian again.

“Right. You can’t answer. Okay, let’s get to work then.”

-

Lucifer arrived back at Chloe’s house at four thirty, clad in a clean suit that looked much like his old one and with not a hint of blood in sight. He felt free at last, knowing that she was safe from harm for another while. He might have gone a little overboard on the stalker but the sight of the bed, the ropes and the tape had sent him into a frenzy of angry rage.

He’d known what his intentions were. What he would have done to her on that bed. So Lucifer had made sure the man suffered for it. He knew that no-one would ever find Brian Turner after tonight and he felt no remorse for his actions.

He was the Devil after all. What good is the Devil when you can’t enjoy yourself?

He slipped back into the house silently, Chloe exactly where he’d left her on the couch. The swirling rage that was bubbling in his chest dissipated at the very sight of her. He grinned.

After today, she’d have nothing more to worry about.

He wished he could tell her but he knew he’d have to keep this one to himself. She could never, ever know what he’d done for her. Or how much he’d enjoyed it. Kicking off his shoes, he hung his new jacket up where the old one had been hanging and bent to scoop Chloe into his arms.

She woke up slowly as he carried her to bed, humming and resting her cheek against his chest. 

“What happened?” she asked, her voice thick as she stifled a yawn.

“You fell asleep on the couch,” he told her.

“Oh, okay,” her response trailed off as she nuzzled against him. He lay her down gently on the bed, trying to pry her hand from his shirt. “No Lucifer,” she muttered, big doe eyes staring up at him. “Stay?" 

At the look on his face, she laughed tiredly. "Just hold me?”

“I can do that,” he nodded. Keeping his shirt and pants on, he removed his belt and waistcoat, draping them over the chair in the corner and sliding in next to her. 

She immediately curled her body around his side, holding onto him like you would a pillow. This was unusual for him. He’d never just held a woman in his life. He honestly wasn’t sure what to do but he knew she’d fallen asleep again and it would be rude to wake her up and ask her.

So he simply lay there, stroking circles on her back until he felt his own eyes beginning to close. Sleep sounded good right now, he mused. So with Chloe Decker in his arms and Brian Turner dead, Lucifer drifted off with a smile on his face.

-

Three months later, Lucifer was surprised to say the least when Irish turned up on Lux’s doorstep, grinning at him from behind her sunglasses. He on the other hand was frozen in place, concerned as to why she was here when he hadn’t called her.

They’d had no contact since that night. 

“Irish, what-” but he was cut off by Chloe’s arm sliding around his waist from behind and her head ducking under his arm. He rested it over her shoulders, giving her a smile.

“Hey, I wondered where you’d vanished off to,” she laughed, then noticed Irish for the first time. “Who’s this?”

Before Lucifer could answer, Irish held out her hand and Chloe took it.  
“Hey, I’m Jo. Nice to meet you. I’m just here to deliver this to Mr. Morningstar,” she waved a nondescript brown package in the air, before pressing it into Lucifer’s hands. 

“Thank you _Jo_ ,” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “This is Chloe Decker, extraordinary Detective for the L.A.P.D,” he introduced her, pride evident in his voice. Irish smirked and Chloe’s cheek’s flushed a delightful shade of pink. 

“He’s just saying that because he has to,” she nudged him.

“Ever modest love,” he tutted, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

Irish watched on in amusement. It appeared that Lucifer Morningstar was well and truly whipped by this five foot something Detective. It was almost sweet. If she didn’t still have that image in her head of a bloody and smiling Lucifer she probably would have cheered them on.

“Well, that’s all I was here for,” Irish shrugged, motioning to the package. “It’s just a few files that were left behind at our office the last time you were there,” she glanced at Chloe to see if she’d bought the story. Lucifer nodded his thanks, eyes urging her to go before they slipped up somehow.

“Yes well, I’ll call you if anything else comes up. Thank you Jo.”

With that they said their goodbyes and Lucifer led Chloe back inside.

“I’m going to go get my jacket. I think I left it upstairs,” she pecked his cheek, releasing him and wandering off towards the elevator. That would give him a moment to check what was in the package. 

Ever since the letters had stopped Chloe had been on top of the world. So much so that after the night that must never be mentioned, she’d actually agreed to go out on a date with him. He’d been the perfect gentleman all evening and she’d relaxed properly for the first time in months. 

It was all new to him, this relationship thing. But he thought he was doing quite well given the circumstances. So here they were, thee months later. Stalker gone, solving crimes together, annoying her ex. What more could the Devil ask for?

He ripped open the package, still grinning from ear to ear.

Inside was a simple typed page, with the name Brian Turner at the top and a list of convicted offences underneath it. 

Three counts of stalking before Chloe?

His eyes scanned the page for more. Two counts of assault with a blunt weapon. One count of sexual assault. One count of rape? He’d been out of jail after serving who knows how many years and he’d still started stalking another woman? Lucifer’s stomach rolled in rage, wishing a little bit that he could rip Brian apart all over again.

At the bottom was Irish’s handwriting. 

_Did some digging on him and found this. This guy was one sick puppy. I cleaned up. Nothing left but an empty house. No family to speak of. Thanks for the dough. Spending it as I write. Look forward to doing this again friend._

_Irish._

_P.S. Burn this later._

He chuckled to himself, folding the letter and tucking it into his inside pocket. He’d give it to Maze to be burned later on. The elevator dinged and Chloe strolled out, smiling when she saw him waiting for her.

“Ready to go?” she asked brightly.

He swept her into his arms and dipped her, mouth finding hers. “Ready as ever Detective.”


End file.
